I swear when she looks at me like this, my mind lurches forward 14 years and I’m telling her that she will stop texting her friends at 2:00 am or I will take the phone from her when she goes to bed.  And, at the very moment that we have this discussion, my mother will be confused as to why she just spontaneously giggled uncontrollably. 

So, you think you have a system.  You think you’re so smart and have it all figured out.  You think you’re so lucky to have the quickest morning drop off routine, just waltzing across the yard to your mother-in-law’s house and dropping off the baby who is so happy to see PapPap that she doesn’t care that you’re leaving.  Then you make your easy quick commute to work, not worrying for a second about the baby until 5:00 comes and it’s time to pick her up. 

And then?  Your mother-in-law gets sick and can’t be around the baby for a week.  And it’s football season which means both your husband and your father-in-law are at three-a-day practices. 

So.  You panic. 

And lots of thoughts enter your mind.  You could burn up the rest of your vacation time…  But the meetings and the deadlines are right there on your calendar staring at you.  You think about the daycare that a family member runs…  But, you worry about taking the wee one to an unfamiliar place.  You call your best friend, your mom and your husband.  In that order.  (What? He was at practice.) And play out various scenarios and get advice. 

And then, you breathe. 

Because when you went to talk to your boss, he was super understanding and gave you the ability to work from home so you didn’t have to use up all of your vacation time or drop your kid off at a strange daycare.  And, because your mom talked to your dad and between the two of them and your brother, they can help cover a few days, even though they live an hour away and that means leaving their house damn early.  And, because two wonderful women, with seven kids between them, who are married to friends’ of your husband hear about the pickle you were in and offered to come help.  

And you realize how very lucky you are.  And that, it does indeed, take a village. 

PS.  Let’s all send collective Internet vibes to my mother-in-law that she feels better soon.  I know she misses C and frankly, I NEED HER.

1. While I’m perfectly capable of getting my own door, thank you very much, if I’m half a step behind you and you let it shut when my hands are clearly full, I will think you are a jerk.  This applies to men and women. 
2. Being busy at works beats being bored. By a long shot.
3. I think C’s way of clapping – clasping her hands and waving them up and down in front of her face – is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.  But I do not think it will catch on at football games. 
4. I’m cold with the space heater off, but hot with it on.  This is a problem. 
5. The best part about hotdogs and chips for lunch is that it costs $2.05. 
6. Why does it feel like summer ends with the 4th of July? 
7. Football season starts in about a week and I’m missing my husband already.  Please come visit me.  And bring food.   
8. I think  we have another tooth breaking through.  Think  because my child will not let me put my finger in her mouth to find out. 
9. I didn’t know it was possible to be proud of such a small little person.  But I am. 
10. The best part about summer ending and football starting is that new TV shows will soon adorn my TV.  Also?  Jeans and sweatshirts. 
11. I need to find a way to tell people who send me stupid forwards five times a day to knock it off.  If you’re one of them, please knock it off.  I don’t think the person will dance if I forward your email on, I don’t care about your politics and I will not sign your petition. 
12. I booked a professional photo shoot today.  Now I need clothing and prop ideas.  (… and GO.) 
13. I hate it when I get phone calls from sales rep at lunch.  And even more when I make the mistake of answering them and it interrupts my blogging random things. 

When you don’t know what to write about, just write.  Right?

A few months ago when I started sharing the ins and outs and ups and downs of my mommyhood with the world, I found myself consumed by it.  Captivated.  Curious.  Hooked.

I needed to be “connected” all. the. time.  I was constantly checking Twitter on my phone, subscribing to blog after blog in my Google Reader and freaking out when I logged in and found 237 unread posts.  The second I laid C down to sleep, I would hurry to open up the laptop and tap out a post or comment on my favorite blogs. 

A few months later, I find myself rocking her a little longer, even after she’s fallen asleep.  Or I open the computer and stare at the “add new post” screen, unsure about what to write.  Maybe I share a few not-so-witty, borderline whiny tweets and check in with a few e-friends.  But I don’t feel as tied to blogging as I did a while back. 

Is it because it’s not what I thought it would be?  My posts aren’t earth shattering. I don’t touch hot topics with a ten-foot pole. And I don’t know where I want this site to go. 

Is it because way too often Twitter gives me the big fat fail whale and I just don’t have the patience for it? 

Is it because I see C’s babyhood slipping away and I want to take every moment to soak it in?  Not write or talk about it?

Is it because things like work, busy weekends, the start of football season and not feeling well have my head in a place where, by the end of the day, I don’t want to do anything other than curl up with a soft blanket and Reba reruns on Lifetime? 

I’m being a little bit melodramatic.  I’m not going anywhere.  I blogged before anyone read what I wrote and honestly, my mom likes seeing new pictures of her granddaughter.  I just noticed this change tonight, when again C feel asleep as I was feeding her (does anyone else think she needs an earlier bedtime?) and instead of rushing to jump online, I rocked, stroked her hair, ran my finger along her cheek and just stared at her peaceful and content face. 

It’s also a little bit of an explanation for the lack of commenting (so sorry!) and the over abundance of posts that mostly just cute pictures or silly stories.  Maybe someday, I’ll try to stretch my wings a little more, be a little more engaged, a little less whiny.  But for now, this is where I’m at. 

Pity party.  Table for one.

People!  You’re in luck.  Today, you get to read a post by Tiffany from Mom-Nom.com.  Let me give you some background on Ms. Tiffany, just on the off chance that you’re not one of her regular readers.  She’s a pretty, happy, funny and deterimined momma to two of the most photogenic kids I’ve ever seen, Bubs and Bubette.  Just over a year ago, Bubs was involved in a terrible golf cart accident.  You can read about the details on her blog.  But, before you read her post below, you should really go read the post that she wrote on the anniversary of Bubs’ accident.  It’s powerful and inspiring. 

So is Tiffany. 

+ + + + + + +

I’ve never talked about it…to anyone but a therapist. And, I have never said anything on my own blog about it. But personally, I think a blog that allows you to declare you are “Not Mommy of the Year” is the place to do it, right?
 
I carry a lot of guilt, dating back to July 19, 2009.
 
You see, I allowed my son – my first born & my pride & joy, ride and sometimes even drive a golf cart. That cart – it almost took his life.

 I’ll pause here and let that sink in for a moment…

I knowingly allowed my son to operate and ride in a motorized vehicle that was not a) safe b) age appropriate or c) SAFE. What kind of mom does that?
 
Our children rely on us for many things. But one of the key things they rely on us for is safety. And, if they can’t rely on us, who can they rely on?  

What kind of mother looks the other way as grandpa and son drive by (at a speed that is slightly faster than I would prefer for myself) in a golf cart, of all things.
 
And, this wasn’t your average golf cart. It was as suped up machine, with larger than normal wheels and a tow package. And my son, he isn’t just a normal son. He’s MY son.
 
I have cried a thousand tears. And made a thousand promises. And worried years of my life away since July 19. I have spent countless hours lying in bed with him, rubbing his hair and praying softly as he slept.
 
I have prayed for forgiveness. For healing. For peace.

And yet, I still don’t feel like I have paid for my sins. 

I can still remember hearing the helicopter circle overhead and thinking – I could have prevented this.  Let me be the first to tell you – there is nothing more painful to your heart than to think that you could have prevented your own child’s pain. his bloodshed. his near death.

And you didn’t.
 
I failed him.
 
I failed him in my most important duty as a mother. I failed to protect him. 

This is the single most prominent factor holding me back from healing. And I know that. And, it is something I continue to work on.
 
Because,  you see…I carry guilt with me.

I carry it in my heart.
 
And I see it everyday. 
 
 
 
I am NOT Mommy of the Year.

or looking for the Funnies, we’re not really sure which. 

My great-grandmother (God love her) was one of the nosiest old ladies you’d ever meet.   We would pull in the driveway and before we could even get out of the car, we’d hear her on the phone talking about the latest gossip among her circle of friends and in the “Valley” where she lived.  She’d talk about who was driving too fast on their way to work, whose kids got in trouble at school, who was fighting with their husband or who forgot to return a library book back in 1954. 

If it hadn’t been for the hearing problem that caused her to yell instead of talk, she probably could have done some good for the CIA or FBI or some other agency that needed to know when people in a small town sneezed. 

So now, when C’s curiosity peaks and sends her beelining for windows, stretching up on her tiptoes and peering to see what’s going on outside, I chuckle and call her Edna. 

Her great-great-grandmother would have been so very proud. 

Internet?  Meet Joanna. 

Oh, you know and love her already?  Fantastic.  But just in case anyone doesn’t already know her, allow me to make introductions. She is a fun, witty, kind and strong momma from Texas who I “met” through Twitter and blogging and who always makes me smile.  If you don’t already know about her blog, go directly to Raising Madison and check it out.  You’ll see why she’s easily one of my favorite reads and the best part, she’s a great gal that I’m happy to call a friend.  (Unless she thinks that’s creepy, then I’ll just go back to being an adoring fan.) 

About a week ago, I realized that I was going to a have a “work is kicking my ass week” followed by a much needed “headed to the beach” week and keeping up with my corner of the internet was going to be a challenge.  So I asked Joanna if she would be willing to write for me while I was otherwise occupied.  Luckily for you, she agreed. 

Without further ado…. 

I love Krista’s blog so when she asked me to guest post I was super excited but completely at a loss for an appropriate topic. She mentioned writing about a moment when I realized I wasn’t mommy of the year and I knew that was the one I had to pick. Let’s be honest, I’ve had a LOT of those moments. 

I sat down to write and began this post no less than 10 times. Every time it was so heavy and talking about how we all make mistakes, blah blah blah, we can’t always be the “perfect mom”, boring boring boring.

Here’s the thing. There has been no defining moment where I thought “man, I do not have it all together.” Because honestly? I think that almost daily. I could go on and on about how at Madison’s first doctor’s appointment it didn’t even cross my mind to bring the diaper bag that I had spent the last month of my pregnancy perfectly organizing or how I left her sitting in her bouncy chair after I heard her poop because she was being quiet only to find my 2 week old child rubbing poop all over her face just seconds later. But I won’t.

I’m going to let you guys in on a little secret I’ve learned. You get to start over every single day! I know I know… you’re blown away that I shared this TOTALLY NEW information with you. But really, I think this is something that needs to be touched on.

In the midst of the shittiest day there is a light at the end of the tunnel (and no, I’m not talking about bedtime although bedtime is sometimes referred to as “happy time” in our house). That light is a new day. And before you think I’ve gone all soft & touchy feel on you with all of my “things will be better tomorrow” bullshit I’ll share something else with you. Tomorrow may not be any better either. It may even suck worse. But after tomorrow? There’s another new day. Are we seeing a trend here? 

We get a fresh slate every day.  And despite how much of a pain in the ass babies can be in the beginning, they don’t hold grudges. So yeah, maybe yesterday in your sleep deprived haze you told your 4 week old to “shut up and stop freaking crying or mommy is going to start drinking.” But today? Today she is smiling for the first time, went down for 4 naps and didn’t projectile vomit on you. Or maybe she did, but the day after next? It goes better.

I can say with confidence that every day I do at LEAST one thing that would classify me as “not mommy of the year.” But I don’t dwell on it and I start each day with my clean slate & try to be a better mom.  It’s a struggle and if I had to grade myself at the end of the each day I’d probably find myself to be a solid B student, but once in a while I knock it out of the park with an A+ and on rare occasions I fail miserably and hope that tomorrow is a better day.

It almost always is.

Wait, do boys read this?   I don’t have a clue.  Why?  Because I’m not a blogger.  I don’t know what RSS feeds, track backs, or whatever the other crap is on this page.  If you only knew how long it took me to figure out how to post this mess.  I know, I’m so out of touch.  I’m a loser.  

Anyhow, moving on.  I’m Krista’s self proclaimed BFF, Heidi.  (Even if she won’t admit I’m her BFF, I have several blackmail stories that will make her cough it out.)  Yes, I’m that kind of friend.  Come on, she knows I love her..I’m making this guest post, right?!  I thought so.

So, again….moving on.  (Man, I get side-tracked easily.)  More about me.  Ah-hem….

 I’ve got a handsome hubby of 3 years, and one kick ass little girl that is 19 months. These are the highlights of the last few weeks:

-   I thought that having Mommy & daughter tubby time would be cute.  Wrong.  I spent the entire time protecting my hooters and vajayjay as if I were heading for battle.  The girl does have set of her own, does she not?!?! 

-  I found my child totally neekkid, diaper off, playing with her newly discovered va-jay-jay..all in a matter of 1 minute of being alone.

-  While at the grocery store, my child decided to pick her nose and try to hand it off to the lady passing us while screaming “Boooooger.” 

-  My child decided it would be fun to take a crap in the middle of the living room floor.  Thank goodness it wasn’t on our floor, it was on her grandparents floor.  Smart girl, perhaps?

 In fact, how I cope with all of the above can be seen below.

Is this frowned upon?

 See, didn’t I tell you she was kick ass?  Yep.  She kicks MY ass, that’s fo sho.

Floating around cyberspace , I’ve seen many an email titled “Five (Seven, Twelve) Friends Every Woman Should Have.”  You know the one.  It talks about needing  a friend who will tell you your ass looks big in those jeans, a friend who is always up for a good time, a friend who keeps your secrets, a friend who makes you laugh and a friend who lets you cry. 

I am lucky enough to have a few people who are all of those things in one.  And, this week, while I”m living it up (read: drinking my face off) at the beach, you will get to hear from one of them.  I am turning my blog over to my non-blogging buddy, Heidi.

Let me tell you about her… We met a few years ago at a job that, well, made us both a little batshitcrazy.  I’ll spare you the details but suffice it to say that it’s the kind of bond that people have who go through wars together or who fight to save a sinking ship.   

Married about a year longer than me and with a child about a year older than mine, she is the person I turn to for advice for everything from diaper rash to lingerie and strollers to ”what the hell do I clean windows with?”   And, God love her, never once has she told me to “Google it”.  Instead she passes along her words of wisdom, agrees with me when I need to hear that I’m not crazy, but lets me know when I’m wrong.

She introduced me to Nine West.  Her love of shoes rivals mine, although her collection is far better.  She’s got an eye for decorating that I completely envy.  In fact, I’m still waiting for her to makeover my house.  She makes me laugh with stories of her kid that give me little glimpses into my future. And, she’s pretty. 

In short, she is fantastic.  And, you can’t have her.  But I will share… sort of.  She’s agreed to take control of this little space while I’m gone, so she’ll be stopping by a time or two to talk about…  well, that’s just it.  I don’t know what she’s going to talk about or when she’ll be here.  THAT’S HOW MUCH I TRUST HER! 

So, when she pops in, do the polite thing and say hello, tease her for not being on Twitter and try not to fall in love.  She already has a best friend. 

PS.  If it’s not too much to ask, would you please take a second and two clicks for me on Top Baby Blogs.  I won’t bug you about it ALL WEEK, but I’d really like to stay on the first page while I’m gone.  XOXO!